


Lessons

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-09
Updated: 2002-02-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh/Donna- A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well.





	1. Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

   


 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

She really is beautiful. Not in that Cindy Crawford / Gwyneth Paltrow / Ainsley Hayes kind of way, but in a way that I find frankly more interesting and compelling. And yes, I just said Ainsley Hayes was beautiful. I mean, she is. That doesn't mean I have to like her. But we're not talking about Ainsley right now. We're talking about me being irrational.

Not that thinking CJ's beautiful makes me irrational, because she definitely is (although please don't tell my mother I said that, or she'd jump to some pretty off-base conclusions and we'd have to have one of our little chats). She's just the kind of beautiful that comes from being graceful and confident and brilliant and utterly - I don't know - radiant. Yeah. She's radiant.

I'm not generally a hero-worshipper. And I don't think that's what this is, exactly. But I definitely admire her.

I do have to confess, in the interest of full disclosure, that I'm not watching her right now because I admire her. I'm watching her because I'm fascinated by the interpersonal scene taking place in his dark office.

This is probably bad and wrong and semi-voyeuristic because they definitely don't know I'm here, and from what I know of them they probably wouldn't be doing this if they thought anyone was likely to see.

Don't get me wrong, there's nothing raunchy going on. They're just - being close, I guess. It's just that I've never seen them like this before. He's never been overly demonstrative even with his girlfriends, and she's - well, I've never seen her be this affectionate with anyone. Ever.

I guess this is a good thing for them, then. You know, maybe this is how they get their - I don't know - affection quota for the week. Maybe they're both just the kind of people who have trouble with romantic relationships.

Because I do know that this is not romantic. Somehow you can just tell, watching them (which, as I've mentioned, I'm aware is a morally questionable thing for me to be doing) through the crack in the door. There's nothing sexual about what they're doing, it's just sweet. But achingly, heart-rendingly sweet.

I wonder why I didn't see any of this when he was hurt. I guess maybe they waited until everyone else was gone.

This internal monologue thing should probably worry me.

Meanwhile, as I'm carrying on a conversation with myself, he's moved closer to her on his office couch. The lights, as I think I mentioned, are already out. I flipped them myself on my way out half an hour ago. Then I got into a conversation, came back for my coat, peeked into the office - and was immediately gripped by what I saw. I mean, one of the loveliest but also one of the most stoic women I've ever met, together with the most unsentimental guy possible (well, maybe a close second, after Toby), sharing what is quite clearly an intimate moment.

God, I shouldn't be here.

But I still am.

Her eyes are closed, her head leaned back against the couch. She's exhausted, I know. It's been a long press day. He's talking to her so quietly that even I, standing right outside the office, can't hear. But the quality of his gestures is unmistakable. He's lightly, gently stroking her arm, his head resting against the couch but almost on her shoulder. Something he says makes her smile, and she leans over to rest her head against his. After a second, during which she clearly says something else, he reaches over to wrap his arm around her and pull her into a real embrace. She hugs him back, and I have to duck behind the door because now he's practically facing me. They pull back. He kisses her temple and for a moment they lean their foreheads together. Something in my chest throbs in response. I want friends like that.

They've said goodnight and are getting up to leave. Oops! They're getting up to leave. Time to run. I dash around the corner and then resume walking slowly so the Secret Service don't think I've either a) gone crazy, or b) planted a bomb. But the image of what I just witnessed stays with me. I've always known Josh and CJ were good friends. I just never would have expected their friendship to be as heart-breakingly beautiful as it is.

And I never would have expected myself to be this jealous.

I know, I know. Their friendship is inherently different. They're equals. They're exactly the same age. There's a twelve-year difference between them and me. It's not the same thing. But still. I want...

I want him to treat me that way.

Oh, my Lord. I want him to treat me that way.

You have to understand, this is a major realization for me. Yes, yes, I know. Go ahead and snicker. Yes, this is something I should have realized quite some time ago - like maybe three years ago when we met and I threw myself at his feet practically begging him to rescue my life. But it's been something my subconscious has managed to keep pretty well under wraps. Until now.

This is not good.

In fact, this is bad.

Serves me right for spying.

Only now what do I do?

Say, "Hey Josh, last night I watched you and CJ in your office, and I got really lonely and realized that I would really like it if you did that stuff with me too?"

Oh, I'm a sad, sad person.

I'm sitting here, in my darkened apartment, wishing my boss would hug me the way he does his best friend. Who, I hardly need to add, is his best friend because she's brilliant and sure of herself and funny and confident and independent and quite a lot of other things that I'm, well, not. At least, I tend not to think so.

There are times when he looks at me and I feel like a powerful woman. And there are times when he looks at me and I feel like a little girl playing at real life. Our relationship is on a whole different level from his and CJ's, and I shouldn't be jealous. But the thing is, I'm not really jealous so much as lonely. And I certainly can't blame that on CJ - even if I didn't adore her, which I do.

Sigh. I go to bed, even though I can't really sleep. It's been three years since I was dumped (by the man my boss has so eloquently dubbed "Dr. Freeloader"), three years since there's been a constant presence in my life like that, but I still have these bouts of emptiness where I have trouble sleeping alone. I close my eyes, try not to picture his arms around me, and try to ignore the tightness in my chest. It doesn't work very well.


	2. Lessons 2

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

I'm sitting in his office at ten o'clock on a Tuesday night because that's what I do. We've been pulling these late nights all week, and except for when they interrupted my dating schedule - okay, my one date - I've barely noticed. Tell me that isn't disturbing. But it hit me while I was showering this morning (have you ever noticed how many things you think of in the shower?) that I've been uncommonly fixated on Josh, that I've actually been spending more time in his office than necessary, just to be with him - so much so that I haven't minded working late. All right, now that's just terrifying to me. The man has the power to make me work late every day and not mind.

Okay, yes. We knew that before.

Just making sure you're still paying attention.

But whether I minded or not, this work schedule is seriously beginning to catch up with me. I no longer wonder why Josh is always either really excited or half groggy. I too have started living in the caffeine cycle. And we're definitely on to groggy at the moment. He's left me reading through briefs looking for a needle in a haystack, and gone in search of some Communications underling that he needs to kill. I'm pretty sure Toby gave him permission, as long as he hides the body under Sam's desk and not his.

Okay, I'm really fighting this falling asleep at work thing now. I've seen Josh do it far too many times to make it look like an attractive coping option. And his couch is not terribly comfortable. I'd wake up with a stiff neck and shoulders and just about everything else. No. I will not fall asleep. I will - I will continue reading these extraordinarily boring, dry, wordy briefs. And they are pretty boring. Really boring. Dull. Obtuse. Somnolent. Coma-inducing, in fact.

Oh, God. If I'm resorting to strings of synonyms I must be in trouble.

The sound in the doorway makes me straighten up quickly, knocking a pile off my lap. I dive for it and look up expecting to see Josh. But it's not Josh. And God bless her, she brought me coffee.

"You look just this side of unconscious," she comments, sitting down next to me.

I sip the coffee she brought gratefully and sigh. "He can only stay a couple more hours, right? I mean, he does sleep somewhere other than here?"

"You've had proof of that yourself," she responds. I nearly spit out my coffee.

"What?"

Uh-oh, now she's looking at me funny. "You've been in his apartment. You practically spent the summer there keeping the rest of us out."

Oh. Whew.

"What did you think I meant?" Oh, no. Her eyes are twinkling. I'm in trouble again. Especially in view of our weekend "it's not that way" conversation.

Well, best to be honest and casual. "I thought you were making inappropriate suggestions about me and my boss." There, good. Keep it businesslike. 'Cause really, at this point letting her know that I discovered I'm harboring some sort of attachment to my boss while watching him with her would not be a good plan.

I let my head fall back against the couch - where, I can hardly help drawing the comparison, hers was that time last week. Good Lord, was that really only last week?

We hear someone stumbling around in the bullpen, and CJ, who can see out the door, yells, "Joshua, you're overworking your assistant. And by the way, who honestly cares about the legal precedent for sedating someone else's cows - are you honestly expecting this to become an issue?" She should learn to stop asking questions like that.

Okay, pause. Last week we had an eye-opening lesson in Josh and Affection, which was bittersweet, lovely, and strikingly painful. Tonight's lesson we'll call What Happens When You Distract Josh. CJ could first of all win an Emmy for her role as distracter - making a personal comment and following it up with an involved political question is the perfect way to send Josh's brain flying into the clouds and ensure that he has no idea what the rest of him is doing. And then we learn What Happens When You Distract Josh.

Obviously the part about overworking his assistant, while certainly not a new suggestion, has worked its way into at least part of his brain. This I can say with some degree of certainty, judging by his behavior. And what is that behavior? As he steps into his office but before he slides into his chair (which, incidentally, no longer even thinks about wobbling, thank you) and starts arguing precedent with CJ, he pats me on the head and says distractedly, "Sorry, sweetheart."

Okay, what? What was that? Yes, we all heard correctly. Yes, Josh - my boss, as well as, well, whatever - just used a term of endearment. This sort of thing does not happen. I've been known to call him "baby" playfully, but only as a sort of slang thing and never seriously. He sounded - well, distracted, yes, but - serious. Like he meant it. Oh, dear.

You know, I think it's worse that he was distracted when he said it. Because that means he didn't consciously decide to tease me or try to be nice or whatever - it means that whatever was in his mind or heart or wherever just slipped out unguarded. And that means a lot of things.

And meanwhile Josh and CJ are arguing about cows and I'm sitting here probably with my mouth hanging open like a sea bass.

Right. Pull yourself together, Donnatella.

Since no one requires my assistance at the moment and I think I'll die if I open those briefs again, I lean back into the couch and close my eyes. This whole situation feels kind of surreal. I feel like a kid napping in my dad's office on Take Your Daughter To Work Day or something. I shouldn't. Heaven knows Josh sleeps here all the time.

Oh, God. Could we erase that image, please?

You know, the one of me sleeping on the same couch that he sleeps on.

No, I mean it. Erase it. Please.

I must do a pretty good job of looking "this side of unconscious," because all of a sudden I notice that Josh and CJ have dropped their voices. They're still fighting over whether anyone cares about drugged cows, so I doubt it's for the sake of secrecy. They're trying not to wake me up. Well, that feels kind of - nice, actually.

And then I must do a pretty good job of more than looking unconscious, because the next thing I'm aware of is someone carefully sliding the pile of briefs off my lap. I'm still in that sleep-haze and I don't stir or open my eyes, but it sounds like CJ's gone. A shift in the couch cushions indicates that someone has sat down next to me. Damn. I should wake up. He's going to start going through the things himself, and that will take hours, plus I'll feel bad because that's my job. The briefs, I mean, not feeling bad for him. Although I guess the jury's still out on that one, too. I should wake up.

But I'm so tired still that I'm not even startled when a hand slips gently under my neck, supporting my head while the rest of the arm involved tries to lift my shoulders. What is he - Josh should not be picking me up. He better be just shaking me awake because therapy and weight training notwithstanding he should not be lifting me.

He's not planning on lifting me. Good. But he isn't waking me, either. He's trying to shift me over to the middle of the couch. I should wake up all the way and move, but I feel like I'm fighting through twenty feet of water and can't break the surface. He'd have to slap me to wake me up at this point.

But he doesn't know that, and he's trying very hard to move me without jostling. He slips his other arm under my back and gathers me carefully against his chest - which he should not be doing, but I almost don't care - and then he does it. Good Lord, the man's trying to kill me. He leans close to my ear and whispers, "Come on, sweetheart, I'm just shifting you over a little here. You're going to get a stiff neck if you stay there."

Yes, we all heard right again. And I know I should wake myself and help him, but this is just too damned sweet and agonizing all at once and I'm not willing to break it just yet.

And then he's obviously managed to get me where he wants me, because my head settles back against the couch and his arms slip out from under me and I'm cold where he was a moment ago, and it actually hurts. I feel the couch shift and I know he's next to me again, and I hear him pick up the pile of papers. And then, I can hardly believe it, but his arm slides around my shoulders and he very carefully pulls me closer to him, settling me in the crook of his arm with my head on his shoulder, and he kisses my forehead before starting to flip papers, and I think I might die.

No, I should definitely not wake up. I should stay right here, where I can feel his warmth and breathe in not just his cologne but the fresh-washed smell of his shirt fabric and feel his heart beating near my ear. There is no way I'm moving right now.


	3. Lessons 3

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

When I finally stir, I open my eyes reluctantly and look over at the clock. Good God, it's nearly midnight. The sounds of rustling papers tell me that Josh is still working - as I think that I feel him shift so he can turn a page. Okay, I really need to get up now. Damn.

I sit up slowly away from him, feeling rather awkward about the whole thing. He turns to look at me as if nothing at all is out of the ordinary. "Hey," he says. "I didn't wake you and send you home because I didn't think you should be driving that tired."

I scrub my face with one hand. "I think I'll be okay now."

"Good."

We look at each other. What am I supposed to say now? Thank you for holding me while I slept? Um. . .

"Thanks," I say noncommittally, leaving it up to him to decide what I'm talking about.

He gives me a one-sided grin, which I find hopelessly endearing. "Sure," he says. He reaches up and pushes back the hair on one side of my face, brushing his hand against my cheek in the process. "I have a couple things to finish up. Go home and get some rest."

I have no idea what else to say here. Throwing myself into his arms seems a bad idea, as does asking him to come with me. I really don't feel that at this point I should be telling him that I have a hard time sleeping lately and that I think he might help. No, no, no. No, no. Big no.

"Okay," I say, getting to my feet. "Goodnight."

He gives me a distracted wave as I gather my coat, and I stare at him in wonder for a minute. To me it seemed like our relationship just crossed some giant imaginary line, but to him everything seems to be exactly the same. Unchanged. He's just as casual about me as ever.

Hmm. Maybe I like it that way. After all, I wouldn't want our relationship to change all that much. Not at work, anyway.

Where do thoughts like that come from? I'm a bad girl. Really. I definitely should not be entertaining thoughts of dating my boss. Uh-uh.

I can't help myself, though. Before I leave I stop and brush a kiss across his forehead. For a millisecond I freeze, thinking I've gone too far. But he is completely unfazed. He reaches up to squeeze my arm for a second, barely looking up from the brief in his lap, and says, "See you tomorrow."

Well, that was easy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I actually manage to sleep some - probably because all that melatonin is still rushing around my body - and make it to work this morning vaguely alert and awake. Thank you, early morning coffee. My morning is not destined to be peaceful, though - not by a long shot. As I start up my computer outside Josh's still dark and uninhabited office (at least I hope it's uninhabited - he could be asleep on the floor) I feel someone behind me, and with that weird radar we all have at times I can tell the person towers over me. "Hey, CJ," I say, before turning to greet her.

"Hey, Donna." I look up to give her a better greeting and from the look on her face I know immediately that she was in Josh's office last night after I fell asleep. I mean, while I was - right. Oh, this could be bad.

She sits on the edge of my desk, then apparently decides not to intimidate me with her height and slides gracefully into a visitor's chair instead. "How are you?" she asks.

Okay, hello, loaded question. "I'm good, CJ, how are you?" Play dumb, Donna, that's it.

"I'm good." She takes a deep breath. She's deciding how to approach this. "Donna, about that conversation we had last weekend..."

"Yes," I say, doing a hideously bad job of concealing my nervousness.

"Did you and Josh..."

"He sent me home at 11:48!" I interrupt excitedly.

CJ looks at me in confusion for a moment. "Okay."

I can feel my face turning beet red. Darned alabaster skin. "I mean, nothing - um - oh, hell." I realize that I've just confirmed any suspicions she might be harboring by being nervous about what could have been completely innocuous. In fact, Josh seems to think it was completely innocuous. Oh, oh, I can use that. "I woke up on the couch, Josh was reading - I'm not even sure he noticed when I left." I force myself to sound casual.

She's not buying it for a second, but all of a sudden her face softens and that suspicious look goes away. "Look, Donna," she says much more gently, "I didn't mean to imply there was anything wrong - hell, he and I do stuff like that all the time. I'm just worried about you."

"About me?" Okay, she's officially lost me.

"It's just..." She's uncomfortable talking about this with me, that much is clear. "I know you're lonely sometimes - cause God knows I am too - and it would be really easy. . ."

I decide to have mercy on her. "You're worried that I'm in love with Josh and I'm taking the fact that he let me sleep on his couch as some kind of encouragement?"

CJ's eyebrows lift. "Well, when you say it that way it just sounds stupid."

I like her enough that I'm not mad at her interfering. "There's nothing to worry about," I reassure her.

She gets to her feet, then stops, making sure there's no one around. "He does love you, Donna," she says sincerely. "Very much. But I'm not quite sure in what way."

I meet her eyes. "Neither am I."

She nods. There's nothing more to say.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * (about a week later, give or take)

So today I wasn't expecting any more Josh lessons. Really, I thought we'd about covered them. It seems I was wrong.

Because what I'm seeing right now is Josh, sprawled on his couch, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Big night?" I joke, seeing as how he really shouldn't be this tired already at eight AM.

"I was up late," he replies without looking at me.

Wait a sec. We weren't working late last night. I saw him leave. "Have you developed a social life, Joshua?" I ask, straining to keep my voice light. Please, please say no.

He grins, eyes still closed. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"No, not really," I say, stung. "You have a meeting with Leo in nineteen seconds."

"What about?"

"Make that seventeen. The education thing." He doesn't move. "Fourteen seconds, Josh."

"I was with CJ," he says, sitting up and trying to straighten his jacket. I don't know why he bothers.

"CJ?" I repeat dumbly. Please don't tell me - no, that seems highly unlikely.

"Yeah, she came over and we sat outside and talked for a couple hours, about work and life and Danny and stuff. It was nice." I'm not sure why he's telling me this - relieved, yes, but still confused. He grabs a folder and heads for Leo's office, leaving me to my thoughts.

By the time we're ready to check out tonight, it's already nine. I have got to get him to quit earlier. This schedule is leaving me with permanent circles under my eyes and absolutely no life. Not that I really had one before all this working late. But now I'm missing ER much more frequently.

As I'm gathering my things together, CJ comes in. I pray she doesn't have something that Josh or I need to handle.

She doesn't. She gives me an intense look, which I completely don't understand, and says, "Hey."

"Hey," I reply. She goes into his office and starts to close the door, but changes her mind and leaves it open.

"Just coming to say goodnight," I hear her say. Well, all right.

"Donna?" Josh calls. "Just a sec," he tells CJ. "Can you come and find the 916 folder for me?"

As I dig through the piles on his desk, I try to be as unobtrusive as possible in case she had something she wanted to talk about. Evidently she didn't. Only now I get Lesson 3. I'm not sure what it means yet, but it sure is interesting.

"Okay, goodnight," Josh tells CJ. Then, completely ignoring the fact that I'm right there, he breaks Unwritten Cardinal Rule Number One - No displays of affection in front of other people. He leans over and kisses her goodnight - a small, chaste kiss on the cheek, but still something he's never allowed anyone at work to see before. CJ smiles and says, "Goodnight, mi amor." Then she looks straight at me, and I don't know what I'm expecting - embarrassment, maybe? - but she just smiles and says, "See you tomorrow, Donna."

"Yeah," I say idiotically. What is going on here? Has Josh suddenly become the Love Fairy and I didn't know about it? All of a sudden it's okay to be affectionate in front of anyone and everyone?

Wait.

I get it.

The click you hear is the pieces falling into place.

They're not being affectionate in front of anyone and everyone. Just me.

Follow me here for a second, this is a bit of a leap in logic, but it makes sense.

The evidence? Tonight, for starters. The fact that Josh willingly told me CJ was at his house late last night talking to him about their personal lives. Plus the fact that when I feel asleep on Josh last week, I woke up in the exact same position despite the fact that CJ had been in there. No, follow my thought here. That means that he didn't move when she came in. That for however long she was in his office he simply let her see us like that. He held me in front of her. And now he's kissing her in front of me.

Get it?

I do.

No, this is not some kind of psychopathic plan to make us both insanely jealous. All three of us know their relationship is platonic, and ours is, well, undefined.

That's just it. Don't you see? After at least three years of being such intimate friends in private and keeping up the façade of professionalism in public, for whatever reason, Josh and CJ have clearly decided between them to let me in. They're letting me into their circle of two, letting me see and understand their relationship. And Josh isn't keeping whatever affection he might have for me (please God!) from her, either. They're sharing something beautiful and private with me, and that means a lot of things. A lot. It means they both trust me. It means they see me as a friend, not just a coworker.

So here's the grand question. What makes me, not a member of the senior staff and distinctly out of the loop, on a different level here than Sam or Toby?

That's when Lesson 3 hits me hard. And it's so unbelievable that I nearly drop the 916 folder and Josh looks at me like I've lost it.

I'm not ever going to be their friend the way they are each other's. They have age, experience, and a deep, non-replicable bond going for them. So in what capacity am I being introduced to this equation?

Oh, yeah. That's what I thought. See, the only possible role I can see for another person here is that of significant other to one of the parties involved. For one glorious, heart-stopping second I think, yes, they're letting me in because I'm going to be the person he...

Then I realize I'm an idiot. I still don't understand my role in all this, but it can't be that. Josh might, indeed, love me very much, as CJ said, but I can't quite make myself believe that he's prepping me to be his lover by letting me get to know his best friend.

But I'd really like to believe it.


	4. Lessons 4

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

I can do this. This cannot be difficult. After all, I've been with just me and the senior staff and no other assistants before. Of course, at that time I had an acknowledged function, even if it irritated them at times - I was there to take care of Josh. Now I'm just - here.

"Donna!" Well, CJ looks happy to see me. That's something. "Come in, come in now, please, I didn't know there were this many college football teams in the country."

I laugh as she guides me inside. "I may never forgive you for going away yesterday," she continues. "Family or no family, me and three guys - anyone and three guys - alone on Thanksgiving with a television involved is horrifying."

I laugh again because it's what I'm expected to do. I know she's trying to put me at ease.

I didn't actually go all that far away yesterday, and I wasn't with my family, but I didn't want Josh to feel bad (that is assuming of course that he would have felt bad anyway). I actually drove to Richmond to have Thanksgiving dinner with a friend from college and her husband and some guy she invited for me to meet. Yeah. You can say that again. My life is sad.

But now CJ is dragging me into her apartment, and while Toby barely gives me a cursory glance and a wave between plays, Sam yells, "Hey Donna, Happy Thanksgiving" (he really is cute in that little boy kind of way), and Josh - well, Josh just kind of lights up and holds out an arm for me. I'm not quite sure where he expects me to go, since he's sitting on the very edge of the couch, but I'm not complaining. I go and lean on the arm long enough to hug him, and then I stay there with my arm stretched across the back of the couch behind him because I can't think of anywhere else to go. If I lean one inch too far I'll fall in his lap.

Yes, I know. You really don't have to say it.

Thankfully I'm distracted by CJ, who's asking me something about men and sport-watching behavior, and I'm terribly gratified by the way she drops an arm across my shoulders as she walks past me. Sam asks for the remote to check on another game and I pass it to him, and he asks me whether my brother played football, and we get into an argument over whether Eastern or Midwestern teams are better, and it's a good ten minutes before I realize that I'm arguing with the Deputy Communications Director in the Press Secretary's apartment, and I don't feel at all out of place anymore. And then Sam gets up to get more chips and Josh slides over into the middle of the couch so I can sit next to him, and as I tuck my feet up under myself he turns to look at me and we share a smile that makes my stomach drop. Sam comes back and shrugs at the lack of space on the couch. CJ's sitting on a loveseat with her long legs stretched across it; Sam goes over and calmly lifts her legs so that he can sit, replacing her feet in his lap. Then somebody scores and we women are reduced to background, but not entirely - Sam tries to jump up and cheer but realizes he's trapped, so he settles for patting CJ's ankles apologetically and waving his other arm in the air like a maniac. Josh punches Toby in the arm, but his other hand reaches over to pat my knee gently. It's a don't-worry-I-haven't-forgotten-you're-there gesture, and I smile. I've been doing that a lot tonight.

When the football games are finally over we click on a terrible eighties movie and sit around laughing at the hair, the clothes, the music, and the cheesy dialogue. When Sam and Toby start arguing over the finer points of the Michael Jackson look, Josh leans over and whispers to me, "Aren't you glad you work with the smartest people in the country?" I laugh, but whisper back seriously, "Then what does that make me?" The conversation around us fades into the background as we look at each other, and then he grins and says, "Smart." I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Okay. As long as I'm not the ditzy blonde college dropout who answers his phone. Because you know, I worry sometimes.

No one trickles out of this party; at eleven Toby decides to leave and we all follow. I notice that both Sam and Toby take CJ's hands on their way out. Josh hugs and kisses her (after the others have stepped out into the hall), and before I can turn away and duck out CJ reaches over and pulls me into an embrace. I'm surprised, but I hug her back. Josh has hung back to walk me out, and I'm surprised again. But not nearly as surprised as I am when he walks me to my car and kisses my cheek before watching me get in and drive away. And I really wish he wasn't watching because I'm actually shaking and I can barely get out of the space. I'm a terrible parallel parker in any case, and this isn't helping.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And then we have the State Dinner.

And not just any State Dinner. We're apparently still placating the Icelandic ambassador, and the Icelandic ambassador is apparently a fabulous dancer. So, this will be a State Dinner with dancing. Right. Excellent.

We've been working all day, so a half hour before the dinner starts Margaret and I are still in the bathroom trying to apply makeup. We've both managed in a remarkably small amount of time to pin our hair up and make ourselves presentable - at least, presentable enough for our role on the sidelines. Basically our job at these things is to watch our bosses and make sure they don't need anything. I'm not talking scotch on the rocks here, we do have some dignity. But we carry their pagers, deliver messages, and basically watch them mingle. This is usually a painful affair and I'm not really looking forward to it.

But on the other hand, I look great. We look great. With Margaret's red hair and her long satin green gown, and my fair hair and dark blue gown, we look like sisters from a fairy tale. We giggle like high schoolers going to the prom as we brush on just enough makeup to keep ourselves from looking overworked and under-rested - which is difficult because we're, well, overworked and under-rested.

"Margaret? You in there?" Josh's voice echoes through the heavy bathroom door. Margaret gives me a confused look and yells back, "Yeah, Josh?"

"Leo needs you. Something about a printer cable?"

Her eyebrows lift and she laughs. "Oops." To Josh she calls, "Right there!"

"Donna with you?" he calls back.

"Yes!" I reply.

"Everybody decent?" he asks, as he opens the door and comes in.

"What would you do if we weren't?" Margaret demands.

"Take Polaroids," he teases. "Leo's imploding."

"Right." She gives me one last guilty grin and exits hastily.

I feel him looking at me. What is he doing in the women's bathroom, anyway? Admiring the scenery?

"You're gapping there in the back," he says finally. That's all he can say?

"I know," I grumble. "I forgot to get Margaret to pin the straps for me. I guess I can just leave it."

"No, you can't," he says, demonstrating a frightening understanding of women's clothing. "Because if the dress shifts about a tenth of an inch it'll be just a little too low in the front and I don't think we need to placate the Icelandic ambassador that badly." Before I can object he's grabbing the safety pins off the sink. "Turn around."

I give him my best hands-on-hips, what-do-you-think-you're-doing look. "I don't think so."

"I won't stab you," he promises. "Come on, guys know how to pin stuff. I do it all the time when I'm missing shirt buttons."

"Well, that explains a lot," I crack, but I really don't see a choice - I can't flash the ambassador - so I turn around. He pulls me toward him with the strap of my gown - just like a guy - but then I can't exactly complain because he slips his hand down between the dress and my back to keep from poking me and all I can concentrate on is his hand on my skin. He's done both sides before I notice and he pulls at them cautiously. "How's that?"

"Fine, I think," I manage to say.

He turns me around and eyes my chest critically. I'm about to protest when he nods and says, "Yeah, that's fine. You won't be indecent." And while I'm recovering from that one he stands back and adds, "You look great. Ready?"

Okay.

So, have you ever seen a whole lot of people at a party, all of whom know half of the room and none of the other half, mingle effectively? Now throw dancing into that mess. Cause see, the problem is, generally you prefer to dance with someone you know, but the whole point of these things is to suck up to the people you don't know, most of whom don't actually speak English.

The senior staff is no exception. They're basically rotating through the Icelandic delegation, while taking turns escaping to dance with Mrs. Bartlet and CJ. I think the President threatened them with death by trivia if they attempted to sit any dances out. This is painful to watch.

Except I catch sight of Josh and CJ, who have managed to steal one dance together. They look relaxed for the first time since we walked into the room. She's wearing heels with her formal attire, so she has a good couple inches on him, but she's leaning her head close to his and they're laughing. His arms are around her casually, comfortably, and they're moving like people who have been dancing together for years. The President and Mrs. Bartlet are the same, but the vibe is completely different - you would never suspect Josh and CJ of being in love, but it's unmistakable with the Bartlets. I sigh out loud, and Margaret gives me a funny look. I grin and nod toward the President and First Lady, and she smiles sentimentally and nods back. See, women understand these things.

The song ends and the orchestra gears up for another one. Sam leaves the Icelandic woman he's been dancing with (awkwardly, I might add) and joins Josh and CJ and the three of them head in our direction. They're about eight feet from us when a Congressman from somewhere grabs Josh's arm and asks, "Josh? Do you have a minute? I'd really like to get your thoughts on 916."

Josh blanches, and then he looks up and meets my eye. He turns back to the Congressman and says, "Bob, it's a party. We can talk about 916 any time this week you want, but right now I'm going to dance with my assistant." He comes toward me with his hand outstretched. Okay. Interesting development.

Margaret gives me a little shove and I glare at her before stepping forward to take his hand. He closes his fingers over mine, brushing his thumb across my knuckles, and leads me toward the floor. The President heads in our direction, and a panicked Sam and CJ step instantly into each other's arms. Josh and I both laugh, and the President gives them a half amused look and turns away.

We stop in a good place and take up a very proper dance position, my right hand on top of his left, my left hand resting on his shoulder, his right hand high on my waist. Behind me I hear Sam say, "I always loved you in this dress, CJ. I bet all those people at the Kennedy Center loved it, too. Ow!" Even without looking I can tell she smacked him. My eyes meet Josh's and we laugh, and that makes everything a little less awkward. We start dancing a little too formally, but that changes as we both relax a little. It occurs to me that his nervousness is probably a compliment. He could be comfortable dancing with CJ because there was no tension between them, nothing at stake. I don't know if there's anything at stake for him here, but it certainly feels like it.

I lift my hand from his shoulder to rub at my eye, careful not to smudge my makeup. "Tired?" he asks. I nod slightly and he pulls me nearer, coaxing my head down onto his shoulder, and then I realize that asking if I was tired was just a convenient excuse - and I really don't care. He carefully places our linked hands on his shoulder, leaving mine there so that he can wrap both arms around me. I feel his hands on my back and can't help stepping a little closer. I have the distinct feeling that we're veering dangerously close to the edge of propriety here, but I can barely summon up the strength to care. He holds me close until the orchestra finishes the piece, and, wonder of wonders, when we step back from each other there's no awkwardness, no uncertainty. He takes my hand and leads me over to where Sam and CJ are still fighting over whether her announcing that she's good in bed is worse than hugging a call girl in public. Looking over my shoulder, I'm stunned to see Leo leading, of all people, Margaret from the dance floor. She looks a little flushed, and they're walking with an unusual amount of distance between them. That's something I'll have to ask her about tomorrow.

For now I'm going to let myself smile, and laugh, and enjoy the fact that Josh's arm is still around my waist.

Have I mentioned that nothing ever goes the way I expect? Just when I think the interesting part of the evening is over, the 916 Congressman, Bob something, comes back. He gives me a look that I quite frankly don't like the feel of, and asks Josh, "So this is your - secretary, did you say? Where did you ever find her?"

I resent the implication, clear in his tone, that Josh hired me for less than professional reasons. I can tell from the look on her face that CJ resents it on behalf of women everywhere, but she chooses to let Josh answer. I only hope he gives the right answer, because in our heels she and I are both bigger than he is.

"No, Bob," he replied, stressing the use of the name rather than the title. "You must have heard wrong. This is my assistant, Donnatella Moss. She's been with us since the campaign, and I kept her on because I needed someone to do my research for me." Take that, Bob. And I love when he uses my whole name.

Bob hasn't quite gotten the point yet. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Moss. So you and Josh have been together long, I gather?"

I draw myself up to every inch of my height. "I started for President Bartlet in New Hampshire," I say, both stressing the fact that I work for the President and de-stressing my relationship with Josh.

It works. He falters a little and says, "Well, I guess we'll get together later, Josh."

I don't notice until then that after that conversation Josh still has his arm around me, but I notice it now because it tightens convulsively as he mutters, "Sure. You can arrange an appointment through Leo McGarry's office."

Not through me. He's trying to keep this guy away from me.

Josh is protective. Of me.

For those of you who are keeping count, I'd say we can call this Lesson 4.


	5. Lessons 5

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

It hits me, as I sit at my desk the morning after the state dinner, that's I've been looking at this all wrong. I've been seeing my relationship with Josh as a continuum, as though I expected we were on a collision course with possible romance just around the bend, moving closer to it every second. It's entirely possible that our relationship is not changing at all, that I'm only perceiving it that way. In fact, it's not only possible, it's probable.

Damn.

Yes, I've finally gone and admitted to myself that there's something to this crazy urge to launch myself into my boss's arms. Yup. This is it. I really thought there for a while that it was just general loneliness, that any guy would have done just as well. I thought I could still not be in love with him but, as Margaret would say, I think the ship's pretty much sailed on that one.

Damn.

Now the question is, do I do anything about it? I mean, on the surface it's a colossally stupid idea, me and Josh. He's my boss. It would look bad. It might get kind of hairy when at work he's allowed to tell me what to do, but I wouldn't want him to do that outside of the office. He's twelve years older than I am. He has like six degrees. I couldn't manage one. He thinks I'm flighty. We've never actually just had a regular conversation that didn't involve some political issue or my love life - okay, let's stay away from that thought. I still haven't quite recovered from that "no self-worth" thing, even if CJ does think he only said it out of jealousy. Except for the conversations we had when he was bedridden - and those were in a league all their own. Those were kind of nice, actually.

See, there's the thing. Despite all those problems and the complete and utter improbability of Josh's having serious feelings for me, CJ seems to think he does. And she's pretty smart. And she knows him better than anybody, except maybe Sam.

Well. Maybe it wouldn't matter how it looked. And to be honest, I probably tell Josh what to do as much as he does me. And I know somewhere in the back of my mind that I'm actually quite intelligent, just - well, twenty-six. See, that's the thing we can't get rid of. He's thirty-eight, and I'm twenty-six. Yes, I know guys date younger women all the time, but that's usually because guys don't think forty-year-old women have the bodies of high school cheerleaders. Of course, I don't have the body of a high school cheerleader either, but that's not the point. The point is that guys of Josh's age don't usually date women of my age because of the compatibility of their souls, you know? That's the main problem I'm having with this idea. I guess I just can't see a guy like Josh wanting a serious relationship with someone who was six when he and the College Democrats were trying to keep Reagan from getting elected. I mean, when he graduated from law school, I was in the eighth grade. He could have baby-sat for me and my brother. And when I'm with him, I don't necessarily feel his age, but I wonder whether he does. Sometimes it really seems like it.

We might never be equals in that respect. In which case, this non-relationship has no hope of going anywhere.

A thud on the desk behind me makes me jump, and I look up to see that the subject of my reverie has just tossed a newspaper rather energetically. "Good morning, Donna," he sings out. This is frightening. If he's having another Day of Jubilee, I might be ill. "I have a question for you."

"Okay," I reply uncertainly.

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Josh, no," I tell him without even thinking. "Whatever it is, no."

"Donna..."

"Josh..." I whine right back. "It's Friday night. No."

"I don't want you to work late," he says.

"Josh, I told you -" Oops. What he said sinks in. "Wait, what?"

"Are you busy tonight?" He's practically rocking back and forth on his heels. Something is definitely up.

I'm tempted to say I have a date, but I really am a lousy liar. "No..." I reply slowly.

He grins. "Good."

Okay, now I'm really suspicious. "Why?"

He grins even bigger, and I'm terrified. "Because that movie about the storm is out on video, and I hate watching movies alone."

I swallow very, very hard. "You want me to watch a movie with you?" Please, please tell me he didn't mean that he wants me to call up Congresswoman Keane or something.

"What, you've got better plans?"

Thank God, that actually is what he meant. Okay. Calm. "Well, I was going to shampoo the carpet, but I guess it can wait."

"Great." He snaps his fingers as if he's just thought of something. "We can get dinner, if you want. After we leave here."

I shake my head yes, thoroughly overwhelmed and more than a little confused. "Okay. Sure."

He beams back at me. Hmm. This is really, really odd. I wonder if Sam and CJ are both busy tonight. Otherwise, why... ?

"Hey, you two." CJ breezes past the bullpen, and I feel caught even though she can't possibly know I was thinking about her. I give a little wave and hide my face in the computer screen. But out of the corner of my eye I see her hesitate with a questioning look on her face, and then I swear she gives Josh a thumbs-up.

Oh, dear.

You know how I said this relationship was going nowhere? I have a feeling I might be about to find out.

He just asked me out.

He did not. I need to calm down here before I start, in Ainsley's eloquent words, "wigging out" (okay, now there's a highly educated woman who doesn't always talk like a - oops. I was about to say "like a Young Republican"). Josh is not inviting me over for a torrid affair, a romantic evening for two, or anything of the kind. He asked me to come over and watch a movie about a bunch of guys getting stuck in a hurricane, and he asked me for some reason that has something to do with CJ. I really need to relax and stop jumping to conclusions.

"Donnatella!"

I really need to do my job before I get fired.

We decide on our way out that I should follow Josh in my car to the restaurant - a tiny Chinese place near his building - so that I'll have my car at his house to drive home later. Not a soul sees us leave together, but if CJ knows something's up I wonder if it would really surprise anyone anyway. I suddenly realize that I completely forgot to harass Margaret about dancing with Leo, and I slap the steering wheel in frustration. Of course, if I asked her about Leo she might ask me about Josh, and while I doubt Margaret's really harboring a crush on her boss... right. That could be bad.

We sit at a corner table, at sides adjacent to rather than facing each other. Ordering is easy because we've been sharing takeout and picking at each other's food for years. We chat about nothing \- bills, policy, parking at the White House - until finally my curiosity overcomes any common sense that I might ever have had.

"Josh, what's going on?" I ask.

He gives me a confused look, and I pray I won't have to elaborate. I think the embarrassment might kill me.

"I mean, we don't usually..." I gesture at the restaurant, hoping that might clear it up.

"Oh." He smiles and pours himself some more tea. "I just thought - you know, we don't get a chance to talk very often. Outside of work, I mean. I thought it might be fun just to hang out."

Lesson 5, Donnatella. Never assume your boss isn't psychic.


	6. Lessons 6

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

"So," Josh says, leaning across our corner of the table in a rather alarming way, "how's life?"

I must be giving him a priceless look, because he laughs. "Right. Silly question."

"Josh, what exactly did you want to talk about?" I ask in total frustration. I'm nervous, terrified, curious, intrigued, and all this is going way too fast and agonizingly slow at the same time.

"Nothing," he says enigmatically. "Life. Work. Us."

Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Something better happen soon to distract him from life work us. Soon.

When I see the look on his face I realize I've been sitting in silence waiting for something to rescue me.

"Oh," I say intelligently. "Life, work, and us, huh?"

"Sure." He picks up his water glass and starts sloshing the liquid around it in circles. "Um - have you been seeing anyone lately?"

Apparently he thinks that question is just as abrupt as I do, because he immediately looks like he wants to take it back. I sigh. "Not since - well, that one date a couple weeks ago."

His face flushes and he looks vaguely embarrassed and maybe just a little bit - guilty? Well, good. He should. "Look, Donna," he says, "about that..."

My heart starts to pound. I realize that I don't really want him to talk about this, because if he was actually thinking those things that he said I don't think I can hear them again. I have to change the subject, and fast. "I said it wasn't your fault, Josh. It would have sucked even if I hadn't had to leave early. Really, it was no big deal." Please leave it at that.

"I wasn't talking about that," he says. Oh, hell.

Do I really have to - is he expecting me to ask - yes, he is. There's really no way out of this one. Either I ask, or he tells me anyway. "What were you talking about?" I ask with a weary sigh.

"I was talking about - what I said - about -"

No, I can't hear this. "It's really fine, Josh," I cut him off desperately.

"It's not fine!" he exclaims, startling the waiter who is leaning over our table to deliver the food. Josh waits discreetly until the waiter has left and then says again, more quietly, "It's not fine. I shouldn't have -"

I am bound and determined that he is not going to get this out. This evening has gone downhill real fast. I'm not quite sure at what point it got so out of control, but it's gone from a friendly dinner to a veritable battle of wills. I interrupt him again. "Josh, really -"

"No, Donna, I need to -"

"Josh!" This is getting bad. We're both cutting each other off at every turn and any second now he's just going to start talking over me until I'm forced to hear him out. I turn to the only method left at my disposal. Honesty. "Josh," I say, surprised to find myself fighting real tears - there's no way I'm going to cry over this, "I'm sorry, I really can't hear you talk about that again." Damn. I thought I was doing pretty good but my voice sounds shaky and I hate myself for being a drama queen.

He looks surprised and - I don't know, something else. Saddened, maybe? He reaches over and takes my hand, and I'm too out of it to pull away.

"You don't understand," he says very quickly, as if trying to squeeze the words in before I refuse to listen. "I need to apologize. I shouldn't have spoken to you that way, I was out of line."

"Do you think that mattered?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Do you really think that's what mattered?"

Oops. So, as if the near-crying hadn't been enough, I've just admitted that what he said mattered for one reason or another.

He gives me a look that I pray isn't pity and holds my hand a little tighter. "What did matter, then?"

I've gathered myself enough to pull my hand away. I know with complete certainty that what I'm about to say is going to lay it all on the table. It's going to bring this tentative new friendship that's been building between us to an absolute halt. And there's no way now that I can not say it. "What mattered wasn't the way you said it," I say, looking carefully at the table and not him and managing that way not to cry and to keep my voice steady. "What mattered was that you thought those things in the first place."

I'm not used to talking openly about my emotions. I can't help but feel that we're in a bad after-school special.

He sighs. "I didn't think those things, not the way I said them," he says. I can tell he's no more comfortable than I am. Wow, is he going to regret bringing up this topic. He looks down and plays nervously with his fork. "What I said - came out sounding like I thought you were weak, and I regret that because I don't see you that way at all. What I should have said, was that I didn't like to see you going out with losers because I was afraid of what might happen."

"You were afraid of what might happen?" I echo skeptically.

He pokes the fork rather viciously into the tablecloth. "When I see you with guys like that, I'm afraid that they're not good enough for you, I'm afraid you're going to get hurt, and I'm afraid that some guy is going to break your heart and that you might lose the confidence I've seen you gain." He stops and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I sound like a Hallmark card."

I shake my head. "Are there Hallmark cards for 'sorry I called you a pushover?'"

"I didn't say..."

"Same thing," I insist. "You suggested in one breath that I'd go out with anyone just to be attached to something male, and that I would run off and sleep with the first loser who asked."

He blanches. Score one for Team Moss. "I shouldn't have said that."

"Which part?" I ask sarcastically.

"The sex part," he replies.

"Yeah, you shouldn't have." Actually, this is kind of fun. He's squirming like bait. And we may have gotten closer recently - in my head at least - but I can still punish him (thank you, CJ). "Why did you?"

He mutters something I don't quite catch that sounds like "I was a fairy knight." I'm pretty sure that wasn't really it.

"What?" I ask.

He clears his throat. "I was afraid you might."

Uh-huh. "So you didn't really think I would sleep with him, but you were afraid I might? Doesn't that kinda sound like the same thing?"

He's dying now. I'll let him off the hook eventually, because I can see that he is sorry, but I really need to know this.

"I don't think of you as someone who would sleep with the first guy you met, no," he says carefully. "But you said you had a vibe."

He sounds so positively helpless that I have to laugh. "That wasn't necessarily the have-sex-with-me-now vibe, Josh!" He looks up at me and sees that I'm laughing, and finally he smiles a little too. This is okay. He really doesn't think I'm easy. It's just that as a friend, he worries. He was just afraid -

Hang on.

Whoa there.

He was afraid? I'm pretty sure, from what little I've overheard, that he is not afraid of CJ getting involved with Danny. In fact he's doing just about all he can to encourage it. So why should me sleeping with Todd be something he should be afraid of?

No.

If I'm going to survive this, I really need to stop having those thoughts. Because they're ridiculous.

I need to stay calm and connected to reality. It's probably a little-sister protectiveness thing. After all, CJ's a big girl and he trusts Danny. It's not the same...

"Josh, do you think of me as young?" I blurt out without thinking.

He looks up, startled. He's obviously been lulled into a sense that things are going better. "What?" he asks like the articulate Ivy Leaguer he is.

"Do you think of me as young?"

Now he just looks confused. "Well, you are," he points out. "You're twenty-six."

Yeah, I know. Thanks for the update. "But, younger than you?"

Again with the confusion, only now some of his usual sarcasm is creeping in. "Again, you are." This is good. This is normal for us. This is something I can handle.

"You're not answering the question," I say, dangerously close to whining. That's fine too - that's what we do.

"I'm not sure I'm hearing the question." He's got the familiar teasing note in his voice, and I think we're going to be okay - depending on his answer to my question, that is.

I pause a second to frame it carefully. "Do you think of me as immature and flighty?"

He studies me for a harrowing moment. "How old is Margaret?" he finally asks.

Huh? "Thirty-six," I reply, baffled.

"How old is Carol?"

"Thirty-three."

"Bonnie and Ginger? Cathy?"

"Um - thirty-something, I guess." I sure hope he knows where he's going with this, because I haven't got a clue."

"You know how old Ainsley is?"

"No. Twenty-eight?"

"Thirty-two. She's the same age as Sam."

"That's fascinating, Josh. Where are you going with this?"

He leans back in his chair and stretches. "So you're working in the White House at the age of twenty-six, everyone else who has a similar job is over thirty, everyone on the senior staff for whom you do research is at least over thirty, and you think I could possibly see you as immature?"

You know, I never thought of it that way. I'm practically a prodigy.

He's not quite finished. "Who were the last few women you had a friendly conversation with?"

I'm confused again. "Well, um - Margaret, Carol, and CJ. And my old roommate. Why?"

He starts counting off on his fingers. "Thirty-six, thirty-three, thirty-eight, and thirty-two. Has it ever occurred to you that you feel immature just because all your friends are in their mid- to late thirties, and not because you actually are any less mature mentally than they are?"

Wow. "No, I have never thought of that," I admit.

"But I'm right?"

"It does sort of make sense." I meet his eyes across the table. "And that really scares me."

"Because you're too young to be this old?"

"Because you're starting to make sense to me," I retort. "Am I too young to be this old?"

He props his chin on his hand and looks me over for an uncomfortably long period of time. "No. You're perfect." I blush furiously and he adds, "You have much more energy - not just physically - than those of us who are pushing forty, but you're smart and in control and no, I don't think you're flighty."

I can't quite let go. "But before you said you were afraid I might lose my confidence. That doesn't sound like I'm in control."

"You are more in control than most people your age," he clarifies. "You're also sensitive. It's because of that that I worry about you getting hurt."

"Oh." I ponder that for a second while he steals a bite of my chicken. "Okay."

He looks up cautiously. "Really okay?"

I nod. "Really okay. Quit stealing my chicken."

"You want some shrimp?"

I hesitate for a ninth of a second. "Slide it over."

We both fight for a minute over two ends of the same piece of shrimp and wind up sawing it inelegantly apart with a fork. He's still laughing when he asks, "Why did you want to know?"

"Know what?" His teacup is dangerously close to the edge of the table and I move it back before he knocks it off.

"If I thought of you as young."

Oh. Suddenly I'm feeling very sober again. "I was just wondering if you thought of us as being really far apart in age," I say. Try to keep it casual.

"Why would that matter?"

Okay, casual isn't going to work. Let's go with unimportant. "I was wondering whether age affects our relationship, that's all."

He reaches over with his fork to help me struggle with a particularly large and vindictive piece of chicken. "I am your boss," he says teasingly.

"Not that relationship," I say before I think.

He freezes, fork in chicken. Then he returns to normal and says, "In view of the fact that you've taken care of my drunkenness, reorganized my office and my closet, changed my shirts, and just moved my tea so I didn't spill it, I think we can be friends without my thinking you're too young."

I pause. "Point taken. And move your tea again, it's migrating."

He moves his tea and smiles at me. And the look on his face completely floors me. It's the same look I caught him giving me when he suggested we put me on a stamp. I could be hopelessly misreading this, but he looks exactly like he wants to reach out and muss my hair and then kiss me.

But of course he doesn't.

By the time we hit his apartment we're both a little giddy - the other patrons in the restaurant were giving us funny looks for battling over food and we found that highly entertaining. It's also been a long week and we're both just a little punchy.

I know you're wondering. No, I haven't forgotten that I've fallen in love with him. But we're starting to be friends, real honest friends, and I'll take that for now. That's definitely a step in the right direction.

We settle on opposite ends of his couch to watch the movie. This feels most comfortable - maybe with CJ he'd be a little more used to lounging together (am I obsessing over CJ?), but aside from that time when I was asleep we haven't really been physically close. Not enough for it to be completely casual.

Which is why I'm kind of surprised when I shift positions halfway through the movie and he takes the opportunity to hold out his arm and say, "Come here."

Okay. I take a big huge breath, remind myself that this is platonic, and scoot over to his side. I rest my head against his shoulder and he wraps his arm securely around me. This is not so surprising, after all. Then he reaches up with his free hand, strokes my hair back from my face, turns to press a gentle kiss to my forehead, and then reaches over to take my hand in his. He settles both our hands in his lap as if it's nothing out of the ordinary.

Now that was surprising.

And what's even more surprising is the way we continue to watch the movie, discussing plot points, guessing what's happening next (most people hate when I do that) - all without feeling even a little bit weird. I feel enough at ease to nestle a bit closer, and he shifts to accommodate me without comment.

This is nice.

What have we learned this evening? My boss and I are friends. Hmm.


	7. Lessons 7

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

Monday morning Josh has a meeting on the Hill which he does not want to have. What a shock, right? Right. Anyway, I'm expecting him to be gone at least an hour, which is why I'm surprised when I pass CJ's office on my way to the copy room and I hear his voice.

"Hey, how'd it go?" CJ's asking in response to his greeting. Obviously he just walked in.

"Painful," he replies. Well, what did he expect? No way Harriman was going to switch his vote and Josh knew that going in.

"Painful?" CJ sounds unusually concerned and confused. "It wasn't supposed to be painful."

"It wasn't?" Josh sounds just about as confused. Cathy passes and gives me a funny look, so I pretend to be collating papers on a spare table that just happens to be right outside CJ's partially open office door, just out of their line of sight. It doesn't sound like I'll want to ask him personally, but I want to know what Harriman said.

"CJ, they sent me to talk to a cousin of the recording secretary of the NRA. What about that did you not expect to be painful?"

"Not the meeting, you idiot!" Well, this is interesting. "Friday night."

Oh. This is very interesting.

So she did know.

"It was - nice," he says quietly.

"Nice? That's it?" Way to go, CJ. Make him talk.

"We talked," he says. Well yes, that's true. "We got some stuff out in the open, I think." Oh, really?

"Oh, really?" Couldn't have said it better myself there, CJ. "Like what?"

He pauses. I can practically hear him thinking. "Stuff."

"Did you manage to apologize yet for being a jerk?" I knew she'd be on his case about that. She was pretty pissed that night in her office.

"Yes." He sounds defensive and mock-insulted, but I can tell he's just playing with her. "I was very good."

I can hear the amusement evident in her voice. "Joshua, please tell me you're referring to the moral quality of your actions and not -"

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" he exclaims and I giggle. Serves him right for that philately crack. I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep them from hearing me. I am getting the weirdest looks from Carol right now. I lean toward her desk and say (not too loudly), "Someone told me a joke earlier and I just now got it." She looks like she understands. She's a lovely woman, Carol.

Anyway. CJ's still pressing Josh and she finally gets him to break. "CJ, I promise you, if you ask me just one direct yes or no question, I will answer it."

"Just one?" Go for it, girl.

"If you promise to stop driving me crazy with your open-ended innuendo I will answer as many as you want." I'm impressed that he could pronounce "open-ended innuendo" without getting all twisted up.

"Okay." She pauses. "Are you still speaking?"

"Me and... ? Yes."

"Did you fight?"

"Um - no. No, not really."

"Did you tell her the truth?"

What? Clarification, please?

"The truth being?" Thanks, Josh. I knew I could count on you, buddy.

"That you yelled at her because you were madly jealous."

I drop the stapler on my foot. Carol watches with some amusement as I try to hop around in pain without making any noise. I need to hear the answer to this one.

"No, I did not exactly tell her that."

Oh my God. He's not denying it's true. Oh my God. Josh was jealous. CJ was right. Wow - she's always right. That's a little scary.

Josh was jealous. That's a lot scary.

And it doesn't feel too bad, come to think of it. But she really needs to pump him for more details.

"So?"

"So?" he echoes. "I think that qualifies as open-ended."

She fumbles for a second - trying, I'm sure, to come up with a yes-or-no way of asking what she wants to know. "Did she forgive you?"

There's a long silence. "I don't - don't ask that," he replies quietly.

"What happened?" she asks worriedly.

He sighs. Loudly. "I don't think - I think she had already forgiven me. I mean, I don't think she was angry anymore, if she ever was. She was hurt. And you know, she can forgive me but that doesn't mean she's not still hurt by it."

Way to go, Josh. I think he's just had a breakthrough. I'd like to applaud.

"No, it doesn't," CJ agrees.

"You're not helping here, you know that?"

"I'm your best friend, it's not my job to boost your ego." I hear some papers rustling. "So - do you think she is still hurt?"

He sighs again. "I don't know. I hope not. I tried."

He did. I'll give him that.

"How'd it end?"

"CJ..."

"Okay, okay." She pauses. "Yes or no - you went back to your apartment."

"Watched a movie. Yes."

"Talked more?"

"Not much."

"Should you have?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay." Her wheels are turning like mad. I can't even see her and I know what her face looks like right now. "Did you sit with her?"

"In the same room? Absolutely."

"You know what I meant. Near her?"

"Yes."

"Actually touching?"

His little hesitation is kind of cute. "Yes."

"Platonic?"

"Of course." He sounds defensive again. Oh. Hmm.

"Josh, in the interest of full disclosure I should tell you something."

Oh no. Oh. No. There is nothing I can think of that I want CJ to be telling him right now. This cannot possibly be good.

"Oh God, what?" Obviously he agrees.

"Well, you know how I told you that somebody who overheard told me what you said to Matt about Donna?"

It takes him a moment to sort through the verbs in that sentence. "Yes?"

"Well, somebody else was with me and heard it too."

"Who?"

She pauses for just long enough to make him crazy. "Donna."

Uh-oh.

"You told Donna that I said that?" I can hear him pacing around the room. His shoes make noise.

"No, Ca- the person who told me told her."

I hope Carol can't hear this conversation.

Suddenly Josh's shoes stop. "CJ," he says thoughtfully. His tone is dangerous. "CJ."

"Yes?" She sounds faintly nervous.

"CJ."

"Yes?"

"Claudia Jean Cregg -"

"Damnit Josh, what?" she explodes.

"You told her that you thought I was jealous, didn't you?"

Wow. Josh is smart.

And CJ is in real trouble.

"I might have suggested something of the kind," she sputters.

Oh, no no no Madame Press Secretary. Deny everything.

"Oh God," he says. "She knows." He's obviously too distressed to kill CJ - but wait. Knows what? What do I know?

"I'm sure she doesn't," CJ tries to soothe him. Obviously she knows what he's talking about. "She's a little insecure about you, you know."

You think?

"You're the one who suggested we should spend some time together," he accuses. This is getting extremely interesting. "You said, and I quote, that if I went and confessed my undying love she'd probably have me committed. So what are you telling her I was jealous for?"

Oh. My. God.

I can actually feel the color draining from my face. My heart may have stopped. My head is reeling. I'm having one of those weird adrenaline surges where you get so out of control you can't keep track of what you're doing. My entire body is shaking. I feel like I might pass out. My knees actually buckle and I have to sink into a chair. I'm shaking so hard the chair shakes with me.

Josh told CJ he was in love with me.

No, wait. No he didn't. I really really need to work on this jumping to conclusions thing. He probably told her that he was jealous of Todd the insurance lobbyist for one reason or another, or that he cared about me, or maybe even that he found me attractive (that would be nice). That stuff about confessing his undying love was just a - a figure of speech. An exaggeration. I cannot keep reading so much into these things.

I'm still shaking. I have to go.

I'm back in his office for about two minutes when the door flies open behind me and I jump about nine feet in the air.

"Donna, what are you doing in my office?"

Standard Operating Procedure, Donna. "Looking for you out the window. How'd I miss you?"

"I'm sneaky that way." I take a deep breath. Is he looking at me strangely? No, I'm being paranoid.

"Hey, Donna? You in there?" I haven't spoken in nearly two minutes. He thinks I've gone crazy.

I have gone crazy. I thought he was in love with me.

Well, I can't be completely wrong. He's definitely in - something.

"Sorry," I say too quickly. "I zoned out."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Everything all right?"

Uh-oh. "Yeah," I say, once again way too quickly.

"'Cause you're shaking."

"Am I?" Oh God. Even my voice is shaky now. Must remain calm. I'm not supposed to know anything.

If there's anything to know.

"Donna!" He steps forward and removes the stack of papers I'm still clutching from my hands. He takes my hands in his and holds them up for me to see. They're shaking like leaves in a hurricane. "God, I can't even hold them still. What's the matter?"

I shake my head desperately. "Nothing. Too much coffee. I'm fine."

I must sound pretty bad. He drags me over to the couch, kicking the door shut on his way there, and pushes me down onto it. "Donna, come on. Tell me."

If he's going to be nice I'm in real trouble. I better come up with something fast. Dumped? No, he knows I haven't been seeing anyone. Death in the family? With my luck the supposedly dead person would drop in for a visit next week. Sick? He'd send me home. What I need is a problem he can't insist on fixing. Um... "It's really okay."

"No, it's not," he insists. "You're still shaking." He glances over at the closed door, then reaches over and pulls me hesitantly into his arms.

This is exactly what I did not need, but I can't help myself. I feel guilty for taking advantage of his misplaced sympathy, but it feels unbelievably good to rest my head on his shoulder and let him rub my back. I don't know how long he's planning on holding me, but I don't think I could pull away if my life depended on it.

I also think - no, I know that a few months ago if he asked what was bothering me and I said it was nothing, he would have dropped it. He would not be sitting here holding me in his office.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me what it is?" he asks softly.

I shake my head, or try to. "It's really nothing. It's just -"

"Tired?"

I sigh in relief. "Yeah."

He pulls me closer, if that's even possible. "When's my next appointment?"

"Nine-thirty."

"It's nine-forty-five."

"No, it's not. Your watch sucks. It's nine-fifteen."

"Where am I going?"

"Leo's."

He sits back in the couch, taking me with him. "Then we have a couple minutes."

Huh? "I guess so," I say, a little lost.

He nods. "Then just relax for a while. I'll watch the time."

"Josh -"

He pats my head. "When it says ten it'll be nine-thirty, right?"

"I give up," I mutter from his shoulder. He laughs. Whew. Relationship mostly unchanged.

He's still stroking my hair, though, which is a bit distracting. "Close your eyes for a minute. I promise I won't be late."

My eyes drift closed of their own volition. It's only nine-fifteen and this day has already been way too much. "This is utterly unprofessional," I manage to grumble.

"When has that ever stopped us?" he asks, and I can hear him grinning.

I give in. He may not actually be in love with me, but this is irresistible. I wonder if he's aware of just how much time I've been spending in his arms lately.

Well, since he's initiated just about all of it, I guess maybe he is.

There's a quiet knock at the adjoining office door. "CJ, go away," Josh mumbles.

I hear the door open. "Um, Josh?" CJ asks, amusement clearly evident in her voice. I pretend with all my might to be asleep. He gets to explain this one.

"Hi, CJ," he says.

There's a pause, during which I can only assume she's making some sort of face at him.

"I have a minute between meetings, and Donna was so tired she was shaking," he whispers.

"Already? It's nine o'clock Monday morning."

I feel him nod. "I know. I'm afraid she might be getting sick."

Oops. Remind me later to ease his worry.

"Joshua."

"What?" He's getting testy with her.

"You are so lovesick it's cute, you know that?"

I hope she can't see my face blushing, because I'm really not supposed to have heard that.

From the sudden panicked downturn of his head I'm guessing Josh just checked to make sure I was asleep. "Could you not say things like that?"

He's not denying it.

CJ laughs quietly. "What, you think it's a big secret at this point?"

There's a long pause. "What am I going to do?"

She sounds seriously amused now. "I'd say you're doing pretty well so far."

The door closes behind her and he shifts, pulling me closer. I wonder how many more minutes we have until nine-thirty. I think I'm shaking again.

I want really badly to lean up and kiss him. I don't, naturally. One of us has to remember that we're at work, and that's generally my job. Plus I'm supposed to be asleep.

I think today's lesson is fairly obvious. The only question is, who's going to talk about it first?


	8. Lessons 8

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

I sit in Josh's (perfectly balanced) chair in his darkened office, watching the numbers on the clock in the bullpen. 7:35. 7:36. 7:37. He was supposed to be out of his meeting with Sam and Toby at 7:15. His damned watch probably thinks it's after eight anyway, so where is he?

I hear him coming. Sam is with him, and I'm really not sure whether I want Sam to come in or not. Fear and anticipation are fighting it out in my stomach somewhere.

You see, I've figured out that if something is going to happen today, it's going to happen now, as we're saying goodnight, after everyone else is gone. You'd think, anyway.

Of course, it's entirely possible that nothing's going to happen today. It's also entirely possible that nothing is ever going to happen at all. He could very well have spent the day listing all the reasons it would be stupid to date his twentysomething assistant. And believe me, there are some.

Well, for better or worse, it turns out Sam's on his way out the door. He breezes past the office, yelling, "Bye, Donna!" through the doorway. Josh comes into the room, frowning at the lack of light.

"Did the President forget to pay the electric bill?" he asks. I'm glad he can joke at a time like this. Then I remember that he doesn't know it's a time like this. You know what I meant.

"It's time to go," I say firmly.

I've said that before, and he remembers, too. "You don't have a date, do you?" he asks, furrowing his brow in concern.

"No," I say petulantly. "But I'm tired and I want to go home."

"Well, technically you can go when your work is done," he points out. Sure. Technically.

"Uh-huh," I reply. "And then you'd forget to do half the things you stayed without me to do, plus you'd forget to eat, fall asleep at your desk, and never leave. Then you'd be cranky in the morning and make me miserable, not to mention guilty for leaving you."

"You know, some people hire assistants for support," he says.

"Who are these people?" I ask teasingly.

"Wiser men than I," he says. I'm about to be insulted, but then he comes and puts his hands on the sides of his chair, effectively trapping me between his arms, and says, "God help me, my assistant mocks me and I keep her around anyway because I like her." He leans his forehead against mine for a second, then straightens up and says, "You win. We'll go."

I sit frozen for a moment. First of all, despite the occasional acts of affection and his very touching Christmas message last year, Josh has never broken his wearied boss persona long enough to admit out loud to liking me. Forget romantically, he's never admitted that he liked me at all. Secondly, that little gesture just now was the kind of thing that happens either between very old friends, which we are not, or between an established couple, which we are also not.

This one is going to take a while to puzzle out. Meanwhile, Josh is watching me expectantly. "Donna? You coming?"

I shake my head and rise from the chair, trying to pull myself together. "Sure."

He looks concerned. "You've been acting funny all day. Are you sure you're not getting sick?"

No, it's just that I think I'm in love with you and I think you might be in love with me and the suspense is driving me crazy. "I'm fine." I sound unconvincing even to myself. "Just tired and hungry, that's all."

He grabs my coat off the rack and holds it out for me. I can't help raising an eyebrow at the gesture, which he ignores. As I slide my arms into the sleeves, he asks, "Can I take you to dinner?"

I'm amazed at how casual he's able to be. I must hesitate for too long, because he adds, "Come on. I've kept you late again, the least I can do is feed you."

I can't help myself. "Josh, if we went out to dinner every time you kept me late, we'd be eating together six nights a week."

He grabs his briefcase and tugs me out of the office so he can close the door. He gives me an enigmatic smile. "So?"

Oh. Well in that case. I shake my head as if conceding. "Okay."

We're halfway through dinner by the time I decide that he needs some prompting. "Josh?"

He looks at me between bites. "Donna?"

I gesture in the space between us. "What prompted this?"

"What?" He's pulling off the confused look, but there's something just a little panicked in his eyes. Good.

"This. Dinner. Us. Hanging out." Okay, that was about as articulate as referring to precedent as "the mother's milk of making your point and being right." Don't you hate when a sentence gets away from you?

He doesn't seem to have noticed. I think he's too busy being scared. "CJ," he says finally.

I suspected that. Which doesn't make her involvement any less weird. "CJ?" I'm not supposed to know what she has to do with anything.

He nods, and he seems to have regained his composure and casual attitude. Damn. "She pointed out one night when we were talking that you and I are friends but we never just spend time together. Made me think it might be a good idea." He hesitates. "Was I right?"

Aww. From what I've heard I doubt that's exactly what CJ pointed out, but it'll do for now. "You were right," I say pleasantly. Hey, if he can do casual, so can I. "I was just wondering."

He smiles. Oh God. He's giving me that look again. You know, the hair mussing and kissing one. If he does that many more times my resistance is going to be shot. Ooh. Even though it's not such a sensitive topic anymore, my brain still recoils from that word choice. And that just makes me want to kiss him even more. Maybe I should.

I should not. No no no. The Deputy Chief of Staff and his assistant having a relationship is a big enough deal that if it happens it has to happen slow - and it definitely cannot be precipitated by me kissing him in a very public place. That would be bad, and CJ would kill us.

So I settle for letting him see me blush.

We say goodnight in the parking lot of the restaurant, under pretty hideous fluorescent lighting. I remind myself that we're just friends, and that nothing is going to happen between us in this parking lot. Then we're going to come into work tomorrow and spend another day dancing around each other. This is how we do things. It may not be healthy, but it's us. It is extremely unlikely that anything of great importance is going to take place tonight. He's not ready.

So this is where we learn How Not To Make Definite Statements About Josh, Ever.

Bet you were wondering where the capitals had gone, weren't you? This one is definitely worth pulling them out.

He walks me to my car - well, this is not exactly surprising considering it's parked next to his. As I open the door, his hand on my arm stops me and I turn. He pulls me into a tight embrace, and I react instinctively by wrapping my arms around him. All right. Everything might not be out in the open, but no one spends this much time in each other's arms. It's got to be obvious to both of us that there is something going on. The ship hasn't just sailed, it's in the middle of the ocean and somebody else has rented out the dock. We stay there holding each other for only a fraction of a second too long, just barely longer than a normal friendly hug. He kisses my cheek - again, resting his lips there for a moment too long - and whispers, "Goodnight."

He starts to pull away, and something makes me grab his hand and hold him still. We absolutely freeze in place, looking at each other. The silence is so loud I can hear it, and I can practically feel the air between us as a solid mass. His hand tightens on mine. This is it. Take it or leave it, Donna.

I leave it. I chicken out. After all, I just decided this thing has to go slow, and it's going to go slow. At his pace. I lean forward and brush my lips against his cheek, then slide into the car and pull the door shut. I look up, and through the window we share a smile. There's no way he doesn't know that I have feelings for him. No way. And I might have made it if he hadn't hugged me.

Well. It may be smarter to let this happen slowly, but that doesn't make it easier.


	9. Lessons 9

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

Josh beats me to work the next morning, which is weird enough in itself. Not only that, but when I look curiously into his open office he greets me with a blinding smile and a far too cheery "Good morning, Donnatella."

Well. Someone's in a good mood. "Hi, Josh," I reply, sounding rather suspicious.

"How are you?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Josh, are you drunk?"

He looks wounded. "I'd have to be drunk to ask how you are?"

"At seven in the morning?" I pretend to think. "Yes. You're not even supposed to be here this early. You're supposed to be oversleeping as we speak."

He stands up and comes around the desk toward me. "Is it a problem for you that I'm here? In what I might add is my office?"

I match his stance exactly. "You're keeping me from getting things done."

"In my office?"

"That's what you pay me for. Sort of."

"That's sort of what I pay you for?"

"No, you sort of pay me."

He's moving slowly closer, and I think I'm stepping toward him as well. I've lost track. "What would you need to be doing in my office that you couldn't do if I was here?" he asks.

"That's it, you've uncovered my secret plan to take over the country, starting with the two-month-old memos in your left desk drawer."

"The whole country, huh?"

I notice the vaguely dangerous look in his eyes, but I ignore it. "Margaret's helping, but don't tell Leo."

"You don't think Leo would react well?" His tone has dropped in volume and changed drastically in mood, and he's about seven inches in front of me. Oh, God.

"He didn't react too well to that forging the President's signature thing," I say, taking deep breaths.

"What?" Josh comes to a complete halt. "What forging the President's signature thing?"

Oops. Note to self - bringing up the commission of a federal crime is a good way to break the mood. Whatever mood that was.

"Um - nothing," I stammer nervously. I don't know why I'm nervous - Leo's already heard about it. From, I might add, Margaret herself. Yeah, that was smart.

"You forged the President's signature?"

"Nobody forged the President's signature!" I assure him. This is a bit silly. We're still standing close enough that if I tripped we'd be kissing. "Margaret told Leo that she could."

He frowns. "When did this come up?"

"When the President was unconscious."

"When the - oh." That gives him pause for just a second. "The 25th?"

"Yeah."

"What did Leo say?"

"Something about a coup d'etat."

"You're not saying Leo's actually planning one, are you?" He leans in a fraction of an inch closer. I'd say my face is about the width of my two hands from his - and I have thin hands. If he gets any closer I won't be able to look at him without my eyes crossing. Oh God.

"Yeah, you guessed it. Leo's in on it too. I didn't want him to know that you knew."

"There are some things Leo just does not need to know about." Oh, my God. I can't be hearing this.

Nothing moves but his hand. Out of the corner of my eye I see him lift it and reach painfully slowly for my waist.

"Josh? You in yet?"

I whirl around toward the sound of Sam's voice. Josh can't really put his arm down in time so he tries for the casual look and wraps it quickly around my waist. "Just got here," he says with forced cheerfulness as Sam enters the office.

"I need the file you had on the health insurance legislation? Toby wants to work it into the address for the National Health Care Workers something or other."

Josh is telling him something about how he gave all those files to Leo and Margaret probably has them in a cabinet somewhere, but I'm not really hearing him. Right now my attention is completely focused on the fingertips lightly drawing circles on my hip, just out of Sam's view. I have no idea how we got from abject fear last night to good morning to this, but I'm not sure that I mind.

Apparently Sam wants Josh to follow him somewhere - I'm guessing to see either Leo or Toby, although I've stopped paying attention. Actually I'm more than a little surprised that it didn't strike Sam as odd - you know, that Josh stood with his arm around his assistant throughout that entire conversation. Hey, if it doesn't bother Sam, who am I to complain? As soon as Sam has turned to leave Josh squeezes me toward him too briefly and quickly kisses my cheek before following his friend, leaving me hyperventilating in his office.

Okay. I'm taking that as acknowledgement that if Sam hadn't come in when he did we would have kicked the door shut and probably done something highly unprofessional. Which may or may not have been a good idea.

By the time Josh returns I'm sitting at my computer typing away at memos. I carefully don't look up at him as he passes behind me, but he reaches down and musses my hair on his way by. Without taking my eyes from the screen I smooth my hair back down and frown, but inside I'm doing backflips. All right, we've moved on to the hair mussing. The kissing cannot be far behind. We nearly just did it already. Although it wouldn't hurt if he gave me that look again first. You know the one.

I feel someone else pass behind me and look up just in time to see Sam enter Josh's office and close the door behind him. Hmm. I casually shift my chair just a little closer to the door - which requires that I pull the keyboard along with me. I know. I'm turning into a regular Nancy Drew. This is probably a bad habit to be developing.

Fortunately neither of them is much given to keeping his voice down. "So," Sam says in a voice that sounds teasing, "what was that?"

"What was what?" Josh asks innocently. "With Leo?"

"Yeah, with Leo." Josh's sarcasm has rubbed off on Sam. "With Donna."

"With Donna?" Okay, Josh, when you don't want to make someone suspicious, becoming a soprano is usually not the way to go. "What thing with Donna?"

"Did I say there was a thing with Donna?" Sam asks in that same tone.

"Um - did you?"

I can feel Sam's grin from the other side of the door. "Is there a thing with Donna?"

"No." Josh sounds like a six-year-old denying that he sleeps with a blankie. If that fools Sam for a second we need to get us a smarter Princeton grad. I shift my chair slightly closer.

"You had your arm around her."

"Uh-huh." Good, Josh. Play it cool.

"I don't do that with my assistant."

"There are a lot of things you don't do with your assistant." I smack my forehead in frustration. Of all times for him to pull out the accidental innuendo.

Sam actually laughs out loud. "And what are they?"

"Never mind."

How, how, how does he outtalk senators and diplomats? How?

"Josh." Oh, no. Sam has the sly, insinuating tone going now. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No." There's that pitiful defensive tone again.

"Josh..."

"But if you'd come in thirty seconds later you might have." Okay. Guess we're gonna go with honesty. Interesting decision.

"Josh!" I'm not sure whether Sam sounds shocked or delighted. Possibly both. "How long has this been -"

"It hasn't. It was just about to."

"Well, it's about damn time."

It's all I can do to keep from saying with Josh, "What?"

"Oh, come on," Sam says. "You've had a thing for Donna for ages."

How is it that everyone else noticed this and I didn't?

"I do not have a thing! Have you been talking to CJ?"

"CJ knows?" Sam sounds worried. He must be having flashbacks.

"As a matter of fact, she thinks it's a good idea."

What?

Sam obviously agrees with me. "CJ Cregg - our press secretary, CJ Cregg - thinks it's a good idea for you to date your assistant? Your twenty-year-old assistant who works for you twelve feet from the Oval Office?"

It's a little farther than that, Sam. "She's twenty-six," Josh says in a bristling tone. "And CJ thinks it would be a good idea."

"Why?" He backpedals quickly. "I mean, I like Donna and I'd have to be blind not to see the rampant chemistry that's been flying between you two, but -"

"Because it's not just rampant chemistry," Josh replies a little more quietly. "I love her."

And I nearly fall off my chair.


	10. Lessons 10

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

I don't hear what Sam says in response to this because I'm busy dying quietly. I do gather myself enough to scoot over in front of the monitor, so that by the time Sam leaves I don't look like I've been listening to their conversation.

Sam leaves. I'm afraid to look at him, so I stare intently at the computer screen. He closes Josh's door behind him. I wait nervously, typing so badly that the backspace key becomes my new best friend. Josh doesn't come out. And doesn't come out, and doesn't come out. Hmm. Well. It's possible that he's embarrassed about what almost happened between us, although it certainly didn't seem that way at the time. It's possible that CJ's come in through the adjoining door and they're talking very quietly. It's also possible that he's fallen off his chair and knocked himself unconscious. The way I see it, I have two options here. I can continue to sit here and drive myself crazy, or I can go in there.

I'm going in there.

I knock as a gesture. "Josh? Are you alive in there?" There's no answer and I crack the door and call through it, "Are you unconscious?"

"Unfortunately, no." He sounds like hell. I wonder what happened. Maybe it was the stress of admitting he's in love with his assistant.

Hey. Josh is in love with me.

I have a really stupid grin on my face, which I try to hide as I enter his office. As an afterthought, I shut the door behind me. "Get everything taken care of?" I ask nonchalantly.

He's flipping through a stack of papers and not looking at me. "Uh-huh," he says. I know that tone. That's the Donna-get-out-of-my-office tone. Not gonna work this time.

I am, when the occasion requires, quite adept at stealth. I'm right in front of him before he realizes I'm still in the room. He looks up and gives a little shriek. "Don't do that!"

I grin. "Don't do what?"

He lays down his pile of papers and tries to catch his breath. "Sneak up on me like that."

"Oh," I say, pretending to be surprised.

He frowns. "What did you think I meant?"

"What did I think you meant?"

"Yeah, what did you think I meant you shouldn't do?"

I'm really fighting the urge to say "this" and kiss him senseless. Fighting very hard. I swallow and decide that as long as contact has been reestablished I can wait a while longer. Like till after work when there isn't, well, CJ next door. "Nothing. I'm gonna go finish typing, okay?"

He looks at me a little funny. "Okay."

I turn to leave, and he calls my name. "Donna?"

By the time I turn around he's stood up out of the chair and is alarmingly close. He does that thing where he looks down nervously, then back at me, then off to the side, then back at me again. "Last night was nice."

Yeah, it was. "Yes, it was," I reply, trying to be casual.

There's a long silence. I try to stay patient and remember that people have been telling him left and right to talk to me about his feelings. I also try to remember that I am not supposed to know this. I am quite possibly the only person in the District of Columbia who is not supposed to know this. I wait.

"I just wanted to..." He trails off, still giving me an embarrassed smile.

"Yeah," I say, smiling back. I turn to go.

"Donna?"

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. I sound harsher than I intended. "Yes, Josh?"

Oops. He looks a little taken aback by my tone. "Nothing, I just -"

Sigh. I reach out and straighten his jacket, letting my hands linger. "You have a meeting in the Mural Room in thirty seconds."

He covers my hands with his. "All right." I'm worried that he's hurt, but he slips his arm around my waist and walks me out of the office, leaving me at my desk and heading for his meeting. He squeezes my shoulder as he leaves.

Now I'm getting frustrated. Seriously, seriously frustrated.

Josh doesn't exactly avoid me for the rest of the day, but he's not breaking the door down, either. Figuratively speaking, of course, since he's the one with the door and I'm actually just sitting here out in the open. Right.

Clearly this is not going anywhere fast unless I take it there. And I've decided. I'm going to take it there.

I must look at my watch a hundred times throughout the course of the day. When I see CJ and Carol walk out together I check again. Eight-thirty. Sam left a half hour ago. Toby's knee deep in speech drafts and won't be emerging from his office for years. The other assistants are gone, except for Margaret, who's taking about a thousand pages of dictation from Leo and most likely will not be wandering down here looking for me.

Josh's door is closed. I knock and then walk in without waiting for an answer, my most stern and serious face on.

He's sitting with his feet up on his desk, one hand massaging the back of his neck while he reads something with very small print. He looks up, startled. "Hi."

"Hi."

"I didn't call you."

"No. I just came anyway." I shut the door behind me and drop into the visitor's chair across from him.

He looks at me. "Did you want something?"

"Yes."

An eyebrow shoots up. "You gonna tell me what it is?"

I shift in the chair, crossing my legs in my best professional manner. Meanwhile, what was I thinking wearing pants today? A skirt would have been so much more effective. Oh, well. "We need to talk."

Josh looks like he's going to have a heart attack. "We do?"

"Yes."

"Okay." His feet hit the floor and he looks at me warily. "What about?"

I gesture between us. "This."

"Okay, Donna, that's like the third time you've done that this week. You're going to have to define 'this' a little better for me." He's beginning to sound like himself again. I think I liked it better when he was scared.

I settle back in the chair. "I'm your assistant."

"I've noticed that."

"You're my boss."

"Haven't seen much evidence of that, but I'll take your word for it."

I pause to glare at him. "I've been working with you for three years now."

"Yes."

"And never once in those three years have we ever had a week like this one."

"A week like this one?"

"Last night? This morning? Ringing any bells there, Josh?" He definitely looks pale. Paler than usual, that is. "I do have a point."

"Let's hope so." His voice sounds kind of strangled.

"I think we have a thing."

"A thing?" I've (accidentally, he thinks) echoed both Sam and CJ and this makes him nervous. "You think we have a thing?"

I nod, trying hard to be brave despite my racing heart. "I think we have a thing."

"Um - okay."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

I sigh. "Do you think we have a thing?"

The fact that he never asks what I mean by 'thing' pretty much gives away the fact that he's been thinking about this as much as I have. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "We have a thing."

"You're pretty sure about that?"

Oh God. He's giving me the look. Yeah, that one. "I'm pretty sure," he says.

"Okay," I say.

He's still looking at me that way. I'm trying not to hyperventilate. "So what do we do now?" he asks.

"I've been thinking about that," I reply, striving for a businesslike tone. "I mean, on the surface there are a lot of problems."

"Okay," he says, obviously waiting for some elaboration.

I count off on my fingers. "Well, there's the work thing - but personally I think we'd be a lot more stable working together in a relationship than we are now, 'cause frankly we're acting crazy. Then there's the Leo thing, which I think we can beat if we manage to be sane about it. There's CJ, but she doesn't seem to care. There's the age thing, but I'm not insecure and you're not that old really." He raises an eyebrow at this, but I'm pretty sure he knows I'm teasing. "There's the fact that you're occasionally a complete jerk, but I think I can overlook that." I pause for air, grinning at the look on his face. "Basically I think it's workable."

He nods. Then he holds up one hand and starts counting. "You left out the press, which CJ assures me won't be a problem. Apparently they like you - guess there really is no accounting for taste. There's the fact that every aspect of our lives will become fodder for office gossip, but then I'm pretty sure we're there already. You are aware, I'm sure, that you have an uncanny talent for driving me crazy, but that can be fun. I agree with you on the age thing, I don't think it's that bad unless I suddenly get the urge to reminisce about watching the moon landing. Which doesn't happen very often." He stands up and comes around to my side of the desk, sitting on it directly in front of me. "You know, I'm afraid it won't work and then you'll -"

"Quit?" He nods. I stand up. "I won't quit, Josh. Anyway, it'll work."

"Sometimes I'm a real jerk."

"Yeah, I know." I grin at the look on his face. "But you're cute."

He reaches out for my hand, but doesn't quite take it. He only nudges his fingers against mine, waiting for me to take hold - which I do, gladly. For a second we both look at our hands instead of each other. He rubs the back of mine gently with his thumb and with his other hand reaches out and - pokes my hip. Twice.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, squeezing his fingers.

"Checking," he says, grinning. "Every time I try to touch you in my office somebody comes rushing in. I'm pretty sure CJ's gone home, but I'm testing her radar."

I laugh. "I think it's okay." Toward the end of that sentence my voice kind of trails off and I suddenly get shy.

"Okay," he says. His hand slides over my hip and around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Our eyes meet and we smile. It's an acknowledgement that this is kind of weird, that we're two friends taking an unexpected step, but that it's going to be okay. He lets go of my hand to reach up and stroke my hair back from my face, and I lean ever so slightly into his touch. He brushes my cheek softly on his way down to slip his hand behind my neck. I reach out and take hold of his shoulders, starting to shake with anticipation. I'm pretty sure I'm holding my breath.

We're basically the same height, so he has to pull me down a little to kiss my forehead. I let my eyes drift closed as he moves to the bridge of my nose and then my cheek, and his hand slides gently up my back. He pauses for a second to lean his cheek against mine. For a moment I just enjoy his nearness, then I pull back and look into his eyes as I move my hands to the back of his neck. He starts forward and closes his eyes, and then mine close too by instinct. His lips brush mine so softly I could almost have imagined it. He kisses me again, just a little harder but still testing the waters.

And the phone rings.

We pull away and look at each other. "You are not answering that," I say firmly.

"I am so not answering that," he agrees. Still, we wait, still holding each other close but looking at the phone, until it stops ringing. It does eventually and he turns back to me. "Okay?"

"Okay," I reply.

We move as one, our lips meeting this time with none of the hesitation of the first time. His hand on my neck is heavenly. I tangle my fingers in his hair, and he makes a tiny sound and pulls me closer. I'm really praying at this point (with the part of my mind that is able to concentrate on something other than Josh's mouth on mine)that Leo doesn't decide he wants something.

We break the kiss finally, and he hugs me hard against him and rests his head on my shoulder. "I think that was successful," he says, a little out of breath.

"I agree," I say, trying to control my own breathing. We stay that way for a while and I rub his back affectionately. Finally he straightens up, kisses me quickly, and says, "Since I've kept you late again..."

"Dinner?" I guess.

"Definitely." We share a smile, and then he pulls out of my arms and reaches for our coats. "Let's just take my car. On the way we can decide whether we're going to tell everyone."

"Can we make them suffer for a while first?" I ask, letting him help me into my coat without comment.

He grins at me. "Oh, yeah."

I laugh in response, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders as we leave.


	11. Lessons 11

 

**Lessons**

**by: Allison**

**Character(s):** Josh, Donna, CJ  
**Pairing(s):** Josh/Donna  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** YTEEN  
**Summary:** A friendship provides a basis for dealing with other relationships as well. 

* * *

We hold hands in the car, until he gets to a particularly nasty intersection and I insist that he keep both hands on the wheel. He's headed for a still different restaurant, one that I don't think I recognize, but to tell the truth I don't much care. We don't talk very much - every now and then he turns to look at me, and I smile back at him. I'm afraid that by not talking we're letting awkwardness creep in, but I guess we can fix that once we can, you know, see each other face to face.

He comes around to my side of the car and closes my door. I have the feeling he would have helped me out had I not been too fast for him. The maitre d' takes one look at our joined hands and leads us to a quiet table in the back. We're both just a little paranoid, and from the way we keep looking over our shoulders he probably thinks we're each married to somebody else or something. He hands us each a menu and then makes himself scarce, which is just fine with me.

Josh takes my hand across the table and I give him my most brilliant smile. He gives me that look that I will never get used to, and I suppress the urge to lean over and kiss him. I've always thought it looked kind of tacky when people stood half up and leaned over the table to kiss - plus all we need now is for a reporter to see us. The hand-holding is probably bad enough. Plus there's a lit candle on the table.

We get into this weird space where he leans back in his chair and I rest my chin in my hands and we just look at each other. I guess if we can do that we're probably not much in danger of things getting awkward. "So tell me something," I say finally.

"Anything?" he asks.

I give him a stern look. "What's up with CJ and Danny?"

He sighs. "Well, the short answer is nothing."

He sounds disappointed. "What's the long answer?" I ask curiously.

"I bet you heard he was offered an editorial position."

I nod. "He's not taking it."

"No. CJ thought he might."

"Why - oh." I get it. "So she really does want to -"

"Yeah, she really does," Josh admits freely. "She really, really does. But in her mind it's just too big a conflict of interests."

"But -"

"You and I aren't on different sides," he points out. "That what you were going to ask?"

"Yeah," I reply, draining my water glass. One of those ubiquitous waiters is immediately on hand to refill it. "Does she really see Danny as against her?"

"Not against her, exactly, but not really with us either."

"I know."

He sighs again. "I wonder sometimes whether she shouldn't just -"

"Go for it?"

"Yeah. I mean, he really might be good for her. And she needs somebody, I think. Even just casually."

"She has you," I say.

He smiles. "Yes, but not in exactly the same way, or have you forgotten?"

I smile back. I think I'm getting a little red. "No."

We manage to get through dinner without any lapses into weirdness. It's amazing how well we work \- and on the other hand, it's not really surprising at all. We've always known we're good together. We've just never tried it this way.

Once back in his car, he places a hand over mine. "You want to go pick up your car?"

"I probably should," I say with regret. "Don't want to start rumors that easily."

He nods without comment, and we sit in companionable silence all the way back to the White House. I'm thinking hard about the night, and he probably is too.

It's ten o'clock by the time we're standing outside my car in the White House lot. We stand for a long time, hands at each other's waists, trying to decide what to say. Finally he draws me into a tight embrace. I rest my head on his shoulder and hug him back as hard as I can manage. All too soon we pull back and I open the car door.

"Donna."

That's all I need. I whirl around and find myself in his arms again, kissing him for all I'm worth. When we finally come up for air he kisses my forehead and whispers after a slight hesitation, "You want me to follow you?"

I pause. "Yes."

"Okay." He leans his forehead against mine for a moment, then pulls away and gets back into his own car. I slide into the front seat of mine, heart racing. Once again, intense emotion does not improve my driving skills. I hope he's too off-balance to notice.

When we get to my building we walk through the hallways in silence. It takes two hands for me to get the key into the lock and force it to turn, so he has to settle for keeping a hand on my back. He suddenly remembers something as the lock gives under my hands. "Is your new roommate home?"

I grin as I push the door open. "She had a date. She hasn't been home a lot of nights this week."

"Oh."

I deposit him on the couch and busy myself checking my messages (none, for either me or my roommate) and doing my standard check of all the rooms to make sure there are no psychos hiding in the closet or the bathroom.

"Donna?" I hear from the small living room.

"Yes?"

"Come here." I peer out and see him gesturing to the couch beside him. I shrug out of my coat, dropping it on a chair, and reach for his. Once it's out of the way I settle in next to him, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"What were you doing?" he asks.

"Making sure no one's broken in while we were gone," I reply matter-of-factly.

He looks worried. "Has anyone ever broken in?"

"No. I'm just paranoid."

"Okay." He wraps both arms around me and pulls me closer. "So."

"Yeah."

Our eyes meet and he bends to press his lips to mine. I could definitely get used to this. I lose track of time, and I'm guessing he does too. By the time we break apart to catch our breath we both need to compose ourselves a bit. I'm wearing a button-down shirt over a tank top, and he has the outside shirt mostly unbuttoned and untucked and his hands wrapped around my lower back under it. While we breathe he leans over to kiss my neck gently and he slips his hands under the back of my shirt to touch my skin. I jump at the cold.

"Sorry," he murmurs into my neck.

"It's okay," I reply a little shakily. I wrap both arms around him and pull him close so that he's completely leaning on me instead of supporting himself. "They'll warm up."

"Pretty quickly, this way," he comments, resting for a moment against my shoulder.

"Josh?" I ask after a moment.

He sits up, a funny look on his face.

"What?" I ask, alarmed.

"Nothing," he replies, the look not fading. "It's just that you haven't called me that all night, and hearing you say my name suddenly reminded me that this is me and you. I mean, not that I forgot, it's just..."

"I know what you mean," I say, relieved that it's not a problem. "I never really thought I'd be saying your name this way."

"What way would that be?" he asks, with a wicked gleam in his eye.

I smack him. "Watch it or you'll never find out."

He smiles and relaxes against my chest again. "I'm not hurting you?"

"No, you're fine."

"Good." One hand slides around to my abdomen and starts lightly rubbing around the general area of my ribs. "What were you going to ask before?"

I reach up and stroke his hair fondly. "Will you stay?"

He sits up again. "Here? Tonight?"

I nod, pulling him back into my arms. "Stop that, you're making me cold. Yes, tonight. I mean, not for - just to stay."

"Oh." He actually sounds a little relieved. I guess it would have been taking things a little fast if we went in the space of three hours from confessing our feelings to hopping into bed. Figuratively speaking. He sighs contentedly and turns his head to press a kiss to my collarbone. "Yeah, I'll stay."

I get the feeling it's a little odd for him to be crawling into bed with me in his boxers, but I absolutely put my foot down at any unnecessary abuse of his already severely taxed wardrobe. Anyway the weirdness kind of dies away once we've settled ourselves. Sleeping with (and I mean this in the purely literal sense) a man who's the same height is kind of funny. I have to slide further down in the bed so that I can lean my head on his chest, which means that his feet only reach to my shins. And, I might add, they're cold. Or they are until they've been tucked under my knees for a few minutes. But he holds me close, and the rest of me is quite pleasantly warm. It has been too long since I've felt this, but it also doesn't seem that it's ever felt this way with anyone else. Tonight I have no trouble falling asleep to the soothing twin rhythms of his heartbeat under my cheek and his fingers stroking my hair.


End file.
